


i don't even like you

by ballerinaroy



Series: idol worship [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark Magic, F/M, Family, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-11 11:30:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19536145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballerinaroy/pseuds/ballerinaroy
Summary: “He was my childhood hero, didn’t anyone think it strange that I fell in love with the same boy I wrote about in my diary for years before even meeting? Didn’t anyone ask whether or not it was idol worship?”When Ginny goes to bed she’s fifteen and her biggest concern is balancing quidditch and homework with enough time left over to snog her boyfriend. She wakes up in a home she has no memory of with a child she worries is being held hostage with her. The war is over. She’s married to her brother’s best friend. So why is it that everyone thinks she’s crazy for being the one to question why everything feels a little too perfect?





	i don't even like you

Ginny awoke with a jolt to an unfamiliar bed and struggled to keep the scream from her lips.

What had happened? Where was she?

Nothing was her own, not her bedroom, not her clothes, not- A noise from the other room startled her to alertness and she spun around the room to the open door.

Ginny scrambled to her feet, brushing her hair out from her face. Someone had chopped it, up past her shoulders and it fell stubbornly back into her line of vision. On the nightstand, beside a glass of water and a framed picture of a couple in wedding garb, someone had been foolish enough to leave her wand. Her relief at this miracle was short lived as a second cry was issued from down the hall.

The bedroom door was open and Ginny strained to hear anyone else coming, but the wailing continued and there was no sign of another living soul. Carefully, Ginny crept across the hallway, to an open door and peered inside.

A child, just strong enough to stand was gripping the edge of the crib, short black hair standing up in tufts and watching the open doorway. At the sight of her, the baby stopped wailing instantly, looking up at her with tear filled eyes as if he’d been waiting for her all along. Frozen, Ginny stared back at the child.

Where was she? Who was this child?

When she didn’t approach it, the tears began to well up in the toddler’s eyes once more, and on the verge of a loud wail Ginny crossed the room and scooped him up.

“It’s okay,” she soothed him automatically, tucking him close to her chest. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

The child was content in her arms, burrowing his face against her shirt and making small noises.

Who had left them here?

There was no one else around in the modest home and Ginny wasn’t going to wait for someone to find them again.

Should she leave the child?

The baby hardly seemed a hostage, clearly cared for and provided a well-decorated room. But Ginny couldn’t wait here any longer and couldn’t leave the child alone, not knowing where this was or how long it would be until someone came back.

Decision made she tucked the child closer to her chest and exited the room, certain this was a wizard’s house and hoping someone had been foolish enough to leave out enough floo powder to get them to the Burrow-if there was a Burrow anymore.

The house didn’t smell as she remembered. It didn’t feel like her home either. It was too still, too quiet. Ginny felt her self trembling in the silence, waiting for someone, anyone to show themselves.

“Is someone there?” called her mother’s voice from the garden and Ginny turned just in time to watch her mother come in wearing a sun hat and an apron streaked with dirt.

“Ginny,” her mum said in surprise and Ginny launched herself into her mother’s arms. “Ginny, what’s wrong?”

She couldn’t talk for her sobbing, relief at her mother as the child began to wail again.

“Come, have a seat,” her mother said in a soothing voice and she lead her over to a kitchen chair and lowered her down. “What happened, dear?"

Her mother took the wailing child from her arms without asking and again the child again showed recognition, giving her mother a big smile and cooing at her.

“Mum, mum- I-“ But Ginny stopped mid-sentence, getting her first good look at her mother. She was older, aged at least a decade and littered with faint scars from battles long since fought. “Mum, what’s happened to you?”

Her mother looked down at her apron worriedly, but it was with the urgency of checking for a spill rather than noticing the fact that this wasn’t the mother she’d seen just weeks ago at Christmas.

“Ginny?” her mother asked, “What do you mean?”

“You’re older,” Ginny said tactlessly.

“Oh?” she said, too stunned to reply.

A terrible thought dawned over Ginny. “How long have I been missing for?”

“Missing?” she said with appropriate alarm. “You were missing? For how long? Harry hadn’t even said anything.”

“How could you not have noticed?” Ginny asked, alarmed that her own mother hadn’t been notified. “Hasn’t Hogwarts even noticed?”

“Hogwarts?”

“Yes,” Ginny snapped, “Please don’t tell me someone stole me out of my dorm and no one’s noticed.”

Ginny had a sinking feeling that the alarm on her mother’s face had nothing to do with the lack of notification over her disappearance.

“Ginny dear, what are you talking about?”

“I should be at Hogwarts,” she said stubbornly, ignoring the clues laid out for her. “Last night I went to bed in my dorm and I woke up in a strange bed with this, this child. And who even would leave their child alone with a prisoner?”

Her mother looked down at the infant with confusion and tugged the infant closer to her chest. Ginny felt betrayed watching her mother comfort the child before her own daughter.

“Ginny dear, how old are you?”

“Mum, I’m fifteen!” she snapped. “What do you mean how old am I? How long have I been-“

But her mother was already walking away.

“I’m going to call on Hermione and we’ll take you to St. Mungo’s, alright?”

“What’s Hermione going to do?” Ginny asked.

Her mother opened her mouth to reply. “I’m going to call on Hermione and see if she can take James, you stay right here, alright?”

And before Ginny could protest, or even ask who on earth _James_ was, her mother had already gone from the room and Ginny could hear the fire lighting up.

This wasn’t making any sense.

She’d been prodded and spelled and had every diagnostic jinx run on her and still, no one seemed to be able to explain where she’d been all these years.

It wasn’t just that her mother was older, she was older. Staring at her face in the mirror Ginny wondered why her face wouldn’t come into sharp focus, where the freckles that had never before graced her face had come from. Her hair was shorter, darker too. Her cheeks were propionate and her eyes had this weary look to them that not even stretching her skin could fix.

Their diagnostic questions were endless and ones she couldn’t answer like what she’d had for dinner the night before or whether she’d taken any experimental potions or come in contact with Pixies or pissed off any Goblins recently.

“Harry’ll be here soon,” her mother said when the room was clear, waiting for the healers to come to a conclusion. Ginny could hear them arguing in the other room.

“Why?” Ginny asked, picking at the stiff hospital gown.

“They were undercover,” she went on as if she hadn’t heard Ginny. “But Hermione said she was able to get a message to them-“

“Who’s them?” Ginny asked stubbornly. Frustrated that no one would look her in the eye or answer her questions. “Harry Potter? Why would he-“

The healer interrupted before her mother could answer leaving her with more questions than before and her mother was called from the room. Ginny crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly, wishing someone would just answer her questions straight. Her hair, shorter than it had ever been, fell into her face and she shoved it away. She wanted to scream, she wanted to yell, she wanted to hex the next person who walked through the door with an over wide smile that was supposed to provide her with comfort.

The door burst open and in rushed a harassed looking Harry Potter.

“Thank Merlin,” he said at once, rushing over to her and putting his arms around her. “Hermione said she didn’t know what was going on and I-“

She could feel him panting against her, smell the sweat on his skin and she wanted to push him away. Her mother rushed in, saving her.

“Harry dear,” she said gently, “Ginny seems to have lost some memories.”

Harry stepped back, one arm still around her. “What do you mean? Ginny, what’s she talking about?”

She ducked out from under his arm, wrapping her arms around herself, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling that came with how comfortable Harry was with her, how quick he was to comfort her.

“She thinks she should still be in Hogwarts.” Her mum said gently, trying to convey a message with her eyes.

“Hogwarts?” Harry repeated, stepping back from her finally. “Ginny?”

By the time she caught the glimmer of a ring on his left hand she already knew the answer.

“We’re married, aren’t we?” Ginny said, matter-of-fact.

Harry looked at her for a moment and nodded.

“Shite,” she hissed, her breathing not yet back to normal.

He was Harry Potter, her brother’s best mate, sure they were friends but- “I don’t even like you.”

The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them and she bore witness to their damage. Harry recoiled as if he’d been slapped.

“I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly, needing to comfort him. “Of course I like you, I mean you’re Harry, you’re Ron’s best friend, you spend every summer with us and-“

“It’s okay,” he said in a strained voice.

But she knew it wasn’t and she rather wished they hadn’t been left alone.

“How long?” she asked of him, trying to sound calm. Trying to sound _okay_ with it. “How long have we been together?”

“Since my sixth year,” Harry answered. Ginny could feel her eyes widening. “You don’t remember any of it?”

Ginny shook her head rapidly. “But, but I’m with Dean.”

In a relationship that wasn’t going to last, sure, but nevertheless she had spent hours alone in his company, enjoyed how he praised her, was always willing to carry her books to class and how he took advantage of every nook and cranny they were able to find in the school.

Harry shook his head. “Not since the night I took Felix Felicis, you were on the rocks and you ended things with him.”

“We aren’t on the rocks,” Ginny said defensively. “Wait, who’s Felix?”

“Er-no Felix Felicis, liquid luck,” Harry explained and he looked deeply embarrassed.

“The night you took it then?” Ginny asked, “So you wanted Dean and I to break up?”

“Yes,” Harry admitted in a small voice.

“What so you took a potion to seduce me?”

“No!” Harry shouted, rushing forward and reaching for her. “No, of course not, I would never-I mean that’s the reason Voldemort-Ginny, how could you think that of me?”

“I don’t know you!” Ginny screamed. “You’re Ron’s best friend. All I know of you is that you’re my quidditch captain and my brother’s best friend. You stay at my house every summer and holiday now but you’re—you’re Harry!”

Harry recoiled as if he’d been slapped and stepped away from her.

Ginny couldn’t help the betrayed feeling as she watched Ron and Hermione go to Harry first for a long and low, whispered conversation. They brought with them the child that Ginny had rescued that morning whom Harry eagerly took into his arms, hugging the child to his chest protectively. It was only when he waved them off, looking rather irritated still that they turned to her.

“Ginny,” Hermione said, walking over and offering her arms before thinking better of it and lowering her arms. “Are you alright?”

Ginny nodded, not trusting her voice. Instead, she studied them. They certainly didn’t look seventeen any longer. Ron had lost the last of his lankiness and had filled out. He looked strong, confident even. And Hermione, even with her hair pulled back in a neat plait looked somehow more relaxed than she ever had in school.

“You’re married,” Ginny said when she could trust herself not to cry. She looked pointedly at the ring on Hermione’s finger.

“Well, yes,” Ron said uncertainly.

“She doesn’t remember anything since sixth year,” Harry cut in. “She still thinks it’s March ten years ago.”

Ron and Hermione turned their heads to gawk at him and then, when he didn’t laugh in their faces, shared an alarmed look.

“March?” Hermione repeated, and Ginny could see her thinking back. “Wait, that means—”

“That none of our relationships happened,” Harry said blankly. He stared at her for another moment and then, as if he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her for another minute, turned and walked out the door.

Ron and Hermione shared a significant look and Ron nodded, kissing Ginny on the forehead before exiting in the same fashion.

Hermione didn’t seem to know what to say and began fussing with the empty tray Ginny had been picking at.

“Mum said Dumbledore is dead,” Ginny said quietly.

Hermione looked up with a sad look and then nodded. “Lots of people died Ginny.”

“How many of my brothers made it through?” Ginny said jokingly, but the look on Hermione’s face answered her question. “Bloody hell, who died?”

Of all her brothers to die Ginny had always thought it was going to be Ron, and knowing he’d made it through had lulled her into a false moment of security.

“It’s okay,” Hermione assured her, glancing back at the door.

“Hermione,” Ginny said sharply. She could tell Hermione was wishing that anyone was with her but Ginny couldn’t be held in suspense any longer. “Hermione, who?”

“Fred.”

Ginny held her breath, waiting for her to finish _and George_ and that she didn’t was somehow so much worse. Hermione looked at her with pity and she ducked her head to hide her face. Ginny searched for the memories, surely even if she didn’t remember her husband she would remember this pain. But just as the child had been a stranger the memories weren’t there.

“You and Ron?” Ginny asked finally, unable to stand the silence.

“It was always going to be Ron and me,” Hermione answered with a confidence that she’d lacked the last time they’d talked.

No matter how many times Ginny had assured her that the thing with Lavender was just going to be a phase and Hermione would still have plenty of time to break Ron’s heart.

“Convenient, huh?” Ginny went on, regretting the subject of a happy marriage even if she’d brought it up. “You get Ron and Harry marries his sister?”

The smile faded, just as Ginny had intended and Hermione looked at her sadly. “Yeah, it was.”

Ginny felt suddenly guilty for lashing out and avoided Hermione’s studious look.

“They’re going to figure this out, Ginny,”

“And if they don’t?” Ginny asked. “If my memories are just gone?”

“Then we’ll figure that out too,” Hermione assured her. “We’ve been through tougher, Ginny.”

“Tougher than waking up ten years later married to a boy you don’t know?” Ginny snapped. “A boy you don’t like?”

“You don’t like?” Hermione asked, puzzled.

“He’s Harry! Sure, I had a crush on him when I was younger but I grew up alongside him.” She explained, frustrated that no one found it questionable. “He’s my brother’s best mate!”

“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked, “I grew up alongside them-“

“It’s not the same!” Ginny said stubbornly. “He was my childhood hero, didn’t anyone think it strange that I fell in love with the same boy I wrote about in my diary for years before even meeting? Didn’t anyone ask whether or not it was idol worship?”

“Idol worship?” It was like Hermione was learning a new word. “Ginny, even before you ended things with Dean you were talking about Harry-“

“No, I wasn’t!” she said harshly. “I didn’t think of Harry like that.”

Hermione was too stunned to reply and before she could recover the door opened again and Ron walked back in. He looked between the two of them and said warningly. “We heard voices from down the hall.”

Ginny crossed her arms stubbornly as Ron, her own brother, put his arm around Hermione and looked at her.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked of her, not even bothering to check with Ginny to see if she was alright.

“I-I need to go talk to a healer,” Hermione stammered.

“What is it?” Ginny demanded, already moving to get out of bed.

“No, you stay here,” Hermione said, no longer meeting her eye.

“What have you figured out?” Ron asked.

Hermione looked at him desperately and shook her head. “I-I need to talk to a healer.” She turned and he turned with her and as they walked out the door Ginny could just hear her saying in a quiet voice. “I don’t want to be right about this.”

The room was crowded again, her mother by her side, Harry, Ron and Hermione by the door with the child as the team of healers ran their wands over her. No one would meet her eye and whatever Hermione suspected was now a secret held by all of them. The lead healer frowned, running his wand over her forehead a final time and muttering to himself. He looked back at Hermione and shook his head sadly.

“There’s no way to prove it of course, but nothing else has shown up and…” he trailed off, “With no other explanation, I’m afraid you might be right.”

Harry looked as if he’d been stunned, closing his eyes as his face fell and her mother let out a moan of pain.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked, trying to sound brave even as the fear mounted in her chest. “What do you suspect?”

Her mother was already crying as she attempted to wrap her arms around Ginny. She shoved her mother off. How was it appropriate that they all knew her condition before her?

“What do you suspect?” Ginny demanded again.

“There’s one explanation, for someone waking up after an extended period of time with no recollection of where they’ve been or what they’ve done,” Hermione said softly with the voice of a professor trying to guide her to the answer.

“You think I’ve been possessed?” Ginny asked, recalling suddenly in her first year how afraid she’d been to awake in a strange place with blood on her hands.

“No,” Hermione said hurriedly, pushing the memory from Ginny’s mind. “It was part of how Voldemort rose to power, had so many at his command.”

Everyone’s eyes were on her now, waiting for her to get there and she wished they would just tell her.

Ginny closed her eyes and the solution came to her at once. Terrible, and awful. “You’re not saying?” Ginny asked but she knew the truth now. “Who?”

“We don’t know,” it was Ron who spoke, his voice dripping with pity.

“But for ten years?” Ginny demanded. “How could they-?”

“They don’t have to be around you,” Hermione explained patiently. “Just have to give you a command. If they’re a powerful enough castor they can make you go about your day as normal.”

Ginny’s thought’s raced. _And what was the command?_ She didn’t want to know what she’d done.

But Harry, who knew her better than anyone, answered anyway. “Fall in love with me.”

They kept her overnight, waking her every few hours for a fresh round of tests, but the next morning she had no more of an idea of who she was. Harry dutifully stayed by her side, resting uneasily in an uncomfortable looking chair and chatting in low voices with the healers whenever they came in. Finally, she was released, her wand returned and was told by Harry that he’d take her home without once being able to meet her eyes.

She found herself in the same home that she’d fled from the morning prior. It felt like a lifetime ago when she’d awoken in a bed that wasn’t her own. The house was refined, orderly. Crafted with money Ginny never really dreamed of having.

“You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to,” Harry said from behind her.

Ginny turned to find him watching her, his arms crossed.

“Molly said you could stay with her, at the Burrow,” Harry told her, “She wanted to be there this morning, but she had to watch Dominique and Victorie, something about a broken arm.”

She could only suppose they were nieces of hers and wondered for a moment which of her brothers had chosen those names.

“Where’s the baby?” Ginny asked, unable to recall his name but felt she should ask of him.

“James is at Ron and Hermione’s,” Harry answered and there was a sudden hitch to his voice.

“Harry,” she tried, going to him at once and he turned away.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “I’m alright.”

But she stayed by his side patiently until he was able to speak.

“We were talking about having another,” Harry admitted finally, “What with Ron and Hermione, and James’ll be two in a couple of months.”

She could picture it now, how happy it must've been, how happy he must've been to be married to the girl whom he loved, living life alongside his best friends. 

“I just keep waiting for you to start laughing, to look at me like you know me.” He told her, his voice trembling. “But every time you look at me it’s just a reminder that it was all false.”

She didn’t know what to say, how to comfort him. How to do anything but react to the impossible truths she’d just been delivered. The Harry she knew was rash and angry. But he’d matured, no longer jumping to the first conclusion and running with it. Careful, instead, in his decisions. Deliberate.

“And if I don’t want it to be false?” she tested, seeking comfort in the one person she was supposed to trust more than anyone.

He was no longer able to look at her. “I’ll be there, for you however you want me to be, but I can’t do this Ginny, you can’t ask me to stay here and face you, not yet.”

Harry pushed away from the wall suddenly. “You’ve your wand. Your mum will be over later or I’m sure you’re welcome there, but I-“

“Where are you going?” she asked sharply.

“To Ron and Hermione’s,” Harry said as if it should be obvious and then winced at his mistake. He offered her a gentle smile, “I’ll stay there until I figure something else out.”

The Harry she knew would never leave them but she didn’t quite trust herself to tease him.

“You can keep the house,” Harry went on, “Or we can get you something else, it’s up to you.”

“Harry,” she said again, longing.

“I’m not going to judge you,” he went on, “For whatever you decide to do. If I were sixteen again,” he gave a funny sort of smile.

“Harry?” she prompted.

“Well, if I were sixteen again then I’d still want you.”

“And if I want you?”

There was hope in his eyes, but it flickered and died. “You don’t, you never even liked me, Ginny. Everything about our relationship has been a lie.” 

Draco Malfoy.

Ginny could remember before she even started school hearing about the Malfoy family from her father, a long-standing feud dating back generations. When Ron had come home from his first year he’d told her all about the epic rivalry that Harry and Draco had. And when Malfoy Senior directly caused her possession during her own first year she had vowed to never show kindness to the family, but this…

The fact that he confessed himself meant little to her. All she knew of the Malfoys were protecting themselves. Even as she stood in an observation room — where she was positive she wasn’t supposed to be — she felt no pity for the man sitting across from Harry and Ron.

“I thought that it’d broken long ago,” Draco admitted in a voice that was truly sorry. “I swear I never-“

He stopped at the murderous look on Harry’s face.

“Why’d you do it?” Ron asked.

“I knew you suspected me of something in our sixth year,” Draco said, somehow maintaining eye contact with Harry. “After Weasley got poisoned, I knew I had to distract you somehow. And so I-“ his voice broke and he took a long moment to compose himself. “I saw the way you looked at her, I thought if I could just-“ again he seemed to overcome for words. “I just thought if she could distract you for a while then it might stall you from figuring out what I was doing.”

“So you imperiused her?”

Draco took his longest pause yet, looking miserably at his hands and then forced himself to look up, trembling with the effort of maintaining eye contact with Harry.

“Yes.”

Ginny closed her eyes as Harry stood up suddenly, convinced he was going to attack Draco. Evidently, Ron thought so too and was holding Harry back with a pitiful effort. Harry panted with the effort of restraining himself and finally dropped his cocked fist, his face full of furry.

Ron guided him towards the door and Harry complied, throwing open the wooden door so it smacked against the wall behind it. It was only when he was nearly out of the room that he turned back, “Why now?”

“Astoria’s pregnant,” Draco said, just above a whisper. “I’m not my father. One day I’ll have to explain to my child what I did and I couldn’t explain this until I made certain it was over.”

Ginny’d been apart of a big family but had always been one of the youngest. She’d little experience with younger children, babies. But whenever she walked in the room and James’ face lit up she walked to him on reflex and drew him close to her body. He fit perfectly.

It all seemed so dirty to label it in proper terms so she settled for the simpler ones. She was a victim, Harry was a victim, James was a product of that.

If she stayed she’d be a mother to a child she’d never wanted, never known to want. One that had been conceived under a lie, grown in her when she wasn’t even conscious. If she left she’d live forever with the guilt of not raising him. She knew her family had opinions, but she didn’t seek them. She’d never seen anyone look at a child with as much love as Harry did and there was no question in her mind that he should be the one to raise him.

“You’re leaving,” Harry said simply, taking one look at her with James in her arms one evening and knowing.

Not all of their relationship had been a lie. Harry had been real. He knew her better than anyone, better, even, than she knew herself.

“He’s going to hate me,” Ginny whispered, nuzzling her cheek James’ soft head. He smelled of soap and powder, fresh and innocent.

“No,” Harry assured her. “He won’t. He’ll have lots of family, and he’ll know you.”

There were tears in her eyes. “Will you hate me?”

“No,” he answered automatically.“I can’t hate anyone but myself.”

“Harry-“

“I should have known,” he said in a tone that wasn’t to be argued with and she didn’t know him well enough to be the one to disagree.

Hermione, however, did and rolled her eyes as Ron said, “Stop trying to sound like a Saint, Potter.”

“Malfoy used to call me that,” Harry said bitterly.

“Yeah, and this is all his fault isn’t it?” Ron answered, undisturbed by Harry’s glare.

And despite his own bitter feelings, Harry had found empathy for the man. “He was just a kid-“

“So where we-“

“—whose family was being threatened-“

“And we don’t know what that’s like-“

“—and if it had been any of you I would have done the same thing.”

Ron opened his mouth to argue and then closed it, tightening his hand on Hermione’s leg.

“The point is,” Harry continued. “Is that we all made plenty of mistakes at sixteen.”

“But he didn’t set it right,” Ron countered. “He had all this time, and don’t try to tell me the guilt was eating him up or anything, and he only reversed it now because he didn’t want his kid to think bad of him.”

“He thought that it was reversed,” Hermione pointed out, but she didn’t sound convinced.

“I don’t care what he says,” Ron said, his voice softer when he spoke to her, “He didn’t really think that or we wouldn’t be having this conversation today.”

“He’s going to be a father.”

Ron opened his mouth and then shut it and looked over to Hermione as if searching to make sure she was still alright.

“He’s going to be a father,” Harry repeated, “And he doesn’t want to be his own.”

She moved halfway across the world and visited once a month. Watching James grow was like looking back through a picture book, in spurts and only with important memories. When she’d visit he’d climb into her lap as if it were where he was meant to be and tell her stories from school and playing with his cousins and the trips they’d took and learning to fly.

Harry never moved them out of Ron and Hermione’s house. When their second child came they added on a whole wing with an office for all three to share and another bedroom for the baby boy who looked exactly like Hermione and somehow missed all of the Weasley traits and called both Harry and Ron father.

She never asked about why Harry’s bedroom stopped looking lived in and they never told. She’d always thought they looked happier when it was the three of them. It was why she’d never bothered breaking into their tight-knit trio, there was something about their relationship that no one else had a place in.

“Your mother gave birth to you and she loves you very much. Families have all shapes and sizes and ours include your Aunt and Uncle and cousins.” If Ginny had heard it once then James had heard it a dozen times that and Ginny had heard it hundreds of times throughout the years.

It worked until he was nine and came home crying from the private muggle primary school he and his cousins went to. Ginny was thankful to receive news of the conversation via post. She didn’t think she’d be able to explain it to him in person. The next time he visited he couldn’t quite meet her eyes and it kept her away for a while.

It was only before he started Hogwarts that he got the full story, everything that his parents had done and how hard his family had fought. Afterward, James cornered her and asked where she was during the long camping trip.

“I don’t remember,” Ginny told him quietly. “I don’t remember any of the battles.”

“So you don’t remember having me?” James asked as if putting it together for the first time.

She shook her head.

“Or any of it?”

“The last thing I remember I was a fifth year on the Quidditch team worrying about my OWLs. And then I woke up to a world with you already in it.”

He stared at her blankly until Ron swooped in and rescued them both, leading James away with a hand on his shoulder and they sat in the other room in low conversation. Ginny witnessed her son crying and her brother being the one to comfort him.

In time Ginny found love and she found love again and again when neither of those worked out. Natives of the lands she visited who she couldn’t quite communicate with and never had to explain herself to. It wasn’t until she found Luna in a cafe in France that Ginny finally told her story to another soul and stopped looking for a way to avoid commitment.

“I always thought something was strange,” Luna said softly, without commendation or needing comfort for her own guilt. “I’m glad you didn’t let it be the only thing that defined you.”

Luna had her own kids to raise and her own ex-husband who provided another list of traumas but they made it work until the kids were off in school and then set off on their own adventures. Luna made discoveries and Ginny wrote them down and together they felt as if they were providing some good to the world.

“Does it bother you?” Ginny asked James as he helped clear the table after a birthday party for Luna’s twins. “That I’m so close to them?”

She knew it was selfish to ask him for reassurance, but she’d never quite turned into his mother.

“Families come in all shapes in sizes,” James teased her. He was older now, almost twenty with a girlfriend of his own and a ministry career. “Mine just happens to include my dad, Hermione and Ron, Rose and Albus, and my mother and the mother of my most insane classmates.”

“They’re not insane,” Ginny said at once and James sniggered at her.

“Ron told me they used to call Luna Loony Lovegood when you were in school,” he told her. “And I know you love her mum, but her children have the most unconventional beliefs.”

“That’s the Hermione in you talking,” said Ginny in an undertone.

“I can go on with what your brother said,” James grinned. “But I don’t think you’d like it very much.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek.


End file.
